Dark Fae Realm:
Aire did not sleep.
She had closed her eyes countless times throughout the night, yet every single time she drifted toward sleep, she found herself staring into her own face.
Lysander.
Wearing her own face, and smiling with her lips. Blinking with her eyes, and speaking with her voice.
The memory refused to leave.
She lay upon the enormous bed inside Lysander's chamber, staring silently at the dark ceiling as another sleepless night surrendered itself to morning.
Or what passed for morning in the Dark Fae Realm. There was no sunrise here.
The sky merely changed from endless black to a slightly lighter shade of hopelessness before darkness settled again.
She had stopped measuring days by light.
She measured them by survival. Twenty-four. She whispered the number beneath her breath.
Twelve days.
Vaelor had stolen another day from her.
Twelve more remained before whatever terrifying purpose he had planned finally arrived.
Her chest tightened.
